Song parody of

Ghostwhirl (feat. MF Doom)

by J-Toth from Hoth

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  • English (English)
  • Français (French)
  • Español (Spanish)

Well here we are again just you and me I don't need a friend, maybe two or three That's me myself, and I, happiness will Be awhile until I remember how to freestyle right Man, I see bland faces, floating next to me Is this my destiny? Hope not, or I might throw up, to lose the recipe Man, I sure can stay inside my head And play dead, like night of the living white dreads Who want to be angry, but them seem frightened Sort of reminiscent of clash of the teen titans I used to have a girlfriend, but it was Time to go When she was trying to show How much hate she could still taste from things that happened awhile ago It was wearing thin, but I can be a trifle slow Especially on a tourniquet that should've stymied her flow I never earned her full bliss, it went wrong But my permagrin is quite strong, like 500, 000 miles long Cry on, cause I'm like the swan And if this mic is on I guess I might stay on long enough to write this song Yeah, right, it's hype, get your clothes girl I don't have the time or mood to make your toes curl No more open mics? No sir Ever since you laid the cold hurt, it's a ghost world Next, a strict regiment of sets on the bowflex Chromium to mold flesh and wheat grass to show the rest Meditation and some slow stretching Let the mind go to rest when necessary, speaking of which, no sex It's a time to heal, not a time to hate And don't try to keep it real in such a sad state Just be depressed for a sec, and if it ends late Be like yay! I made through to the next day The best say, you can't stay in one place too long The rest say, you're gay if you still like those old love songs The test press day is now, I best press play and taste the sound Just in case I see a queen and want to checkmate her style And we could just embrace, or ride out But right now, I'm still looking for love inside my hideout It's really nothing to cry about But when I'm out patience with my mistakes, it's like, God, get the white-out! What a messy fuss, it happens to the best of us Love/hate to raise the heart rate up to your chest to bust And leave you with just enough stress to cuss Ooh trouble, two's a couple, three's treacherous And got you open like the high seas Hoping like these for the squeeze on live G's Jive turkeys, they lucky if they survive the depths of hell, it's murky Jerky, come on work with me See how she's twerking the skirt with tits perky A flirt with a smirk that could body you in one shot glance And let 'em rot, I'm like, not a chance, hot pants! Run feet, and keep from off front street That sizzle like the blunt heat, with business that's for under sheets Creep on secret missions, peep it Or else be in some deep shit, with more fishes to sleep with

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